


For All Else is Surely Desert

by Tabithian



Series: Trope Meme Fills [3]
Category: Batman (Comics), DCU, DCU - Comicverse, Nightwing (Comics), Red Robin (Comics)
Genre: M/M, Not!Fic, Trope meme
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-03-23
Updated: 2013-03-23
Packaged: 2017-12-06 06:11:18
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,722
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/732325
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Tabithian/pseuds/Tabithian
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Not!fic written for the trope meme for Anonymous' prompt of DickTim, pretending to be married. *hands*</p>
            </blockquote>





	For All Else is Surely Desert

In this scenario I thing Tim's been out of Gotham for a while. He's not avoiding the Batfam, really? But, the Teen Titans need help, and Ra's is up to something and other things like that conspire to keep Tim out of Gotham. (Also, fighting giant robots and Ra's' ninja and assorted other assassins is so much less stressful than dealing with family at the moment. He tries not to think too hard about that.) 

While he's thwarting Ra's' latest scheme he gets hurt because ninja assassins and all. Nothing serious, but he can't patrol like that, which makes him cranky. (For not being able to avoid getting hurt in the first place and then just not being able to patrol, to be useful.)

He doesn't want to go back to Gotham, so he hangs out with the Titans for a little bit after that, but he's weirdly restless. 

And cranky, which isn't helped one bit by Kon and Bart and the others being, “Why so cranky, Tim?” and bugging him to relax, “Geez, you're _injured_ , take a damn break already! We won't tell Mr. Broody McBrooderson on you.” 

Tim catches himself before he snaps at one of the others more than once. He knows they're trying to help which makes him feel like a jerk because he went to them, and they don't deserve the way he's been treating them. (Also, he has totally noticed the way they keep sharing looks with each other when they thing he can't see.)

It's because of that – knowing it's not a good idea to be around them when he's this out of sorts – and a little bit of homesickness – he really _has_ been out of Gotham for a long time that he heads back to Gotham.

He goes back to the apartment he keeps because sometimes being at the Manor is _too much_ \- and not enough at the same time. 

The apartment's nice enough, far enough away from the kind that the people travel in Bruce Wayne's (Tim Wayne's) social circle would be found. It's bland and kind of depressing because of that, and also, somehow, his fake plants are _dead_.

As in seriously dead.

“I didn't know that could happen,” Tim says.

The Cat With No Name who somehow gets into his apartment all the time just looks at him.

“Right,” Tim says, and cleans up the dead fake plants. 

But not before treating the area like a crime scene. Partly out of some morbid amusement, partly because how the hell did that even happen, but mostly because he's Tim. He takes copious amounts of pictures from every conceivable angle with markers for scale, takes just as many notes and scribbles down observations and working theories. Possible suspects with The Cat With No Name at the top of the list because he found teeth marks of some of the leaves. (Perhaps not quite the unsolved mystery after all, then.)

Tim doesn't really know what to do with himself – he's in an odd mindset – so he putters around a bit. Updates his files and fiddles with some cold cases he filched from various police departments and whatnot, catches up on television shows and movies everyone's been telling him he needs to see but never really had the time to. 

There's a little bit of keeping up with pop culture that way too, but really, it's more of an justification to watch reality shows and other things that don't really have a lot to do with justice. (Especially some of the reality shows or the talent-based ones that are clearly _rigged_.)

Tim also does some thinking. Like how uncomfortable the couch is, picked by a decorator who assured him it was lovely and brought the whole room together and also came in a variety of colors. (He was tempted by the red, but was talked into black because it was a classic.)

And really, how the apartment doesn't feel the way a home should, all neutral colors and understated everything. 

Generic framed prints on the walls, soothing fake plants in soothing ceramic pots (or used to be, now there are just soothing ceramic pots).

There's no personality to it, nothing to say this is where Tim lives. (He hasn't really, though, is the thing. He's been ~~avoiding~~ out of Gotham too much to do anything about that.)

And then there's the fact that he's still healing from the incident with Ra's. Little aches and pains and a sprained wrist that's mostly healed. Oh, and also the fact that he feels like a giant bruise. 

He gets a few phone calls that he lets go to voice mail – Tam wanting to know when he's going to be back in town reminding him that, _oh_ , that's what he forgot to do. Kon or Bart calling to ask him how he's doing, and to knock it if he's brooding – which wouldn't have worked if he was, but.

It's the thought that counts, or so the saying goes. 

Tim's sitting on the couch one night with some terrible television show on that makes zero sense and he's not really sure he likes or cares about the characters but. The show's so _fascinating_. (In a horrible train wreck kind of way.)

There's a quite knock on the door that he doesn't hear at first, too engrossed in the episode he's watching. He startles when his phone goes off, watches it skitter across the coffee table and catches it just as it starts ton fall. 

“Hello?”

“Hey, Tim!”

Tim freezes because - 

“Dick,” he says, and leans back to look down the hall towards his bedroom. 

“Tim,” Dick says, walking into the living room like he didn't just break into Tim's apartment through the bedroom window. “Long time no see.”

Tim doesn't know why he doesn't just hang up, what with Dick _right there_ and everything, but. No, there's nothing to explain this. 

“I've been a little busy,” Tim says.

Dick sits down on Tim's coffee table, eyes narrowing as he looks Tim over. ““Yeah, about that,”he says. 

Tim goes still when Dick reaches out, fingers on his chin to tip his face up. Turns it to the side to get a better look at the spectacular bruising.

“There was a thing,” Tim says. (There were lots of things, mostly Ra's' ninja. And their swords and knives and other weapons.)

Dick sighs, finally releasing Tim. “I heard.”

There's a bit of a staring contest then, Dick taking a page from Bruce - who got it from Alfred. 

“It's fine, “ Tim says, waving a hand. “ _I'm_ fine.”

Dick's look turns incredulous, which.

“Hey, look,” Tim says annoyance rising. “It was just a minor incident, nothing serious. I didn't lose any of my internal organs, and I have all my appendages! Everything's great!”

The cheer in his voice and smile he tacks on at the end might be overkill, or more like disturbing, but. He's fine. Really.

Dick sighs, rubs a hand over his face. “You're killing me here, you know?” he says, but there's fondness mixed in there too, under the exasperation and worry.

Tim's smile feels more natural now, if smaller. “I try,” he says.

Dick laughs, and finally hangs up. Leans forward to rest his elbows on his knees, eyes tracing the bruising on Tim's face, the cut on his neck that's still healing, red and angry looking. 

“I'm fine,” Tim reminds him. Maybe not whole, exactly, but alive. 

Another sigh from Dick, who mutters something that sounds like, _Yeah, you always are, aren't you?_ that Tim pretends he didn't hear.

“Did you need something?” Tim asks.

It's not Dick only goes to Tim when he needs something (that's more Bruce, really, uncharitable as it may be to think because it's _Bruce_ ), but.

Dick just looks at him for a long moment, and then winces slightly. “Um. Yes?”

Tim is immediately suspicious. _Immediately_.

“Whatever it is, Dick? No.”

Dick latches on to Tim's wrist – the uninjured one – and says, “Just hear me out, okay?” There's a pause in which Tim tries unsuccessfully to pull free of Dick's hold. “ _Please_.”

Tim's the one who sighs this time because he's the idiot who can never say no to Dick when he has that look on his face. (Or ever, really.)

He listens as Dick tells him about a case he's been working on. Scientists on a new kind of bio-weapon who suddenly disappeared only for their bodies to be found a months later. What's suspected to be a gathering of interested parties that may or may not be an auction for the scientists' research that went missing the same time they did. 

“Dick,” Tim says, when he's done talking. “What did you _do_?”

Tim's. Okay, not fine, exactly with everything else Dick told him, but there were a few things that stuck out. 

Such as the fact that Dick has a ticket in to the gathering as the son of a wealthy businessman (so far not that far from the truth) who has had bad luck in relationships in the past (...also somewhat true, if an understatement) who is hoping for better fortune this time around with his new marriage. 

Tim assumes a disguise was used, but - 

“I don't know,” Dick says. “It just sort of happened!”

Tim _looks_ at Dick because. No, not really. (Except yes.) 

“You just made up a nonexistent spouse on the spot,” Tim says. 

“...Yes?”

Of course he did. (This is why Dick shouldn't be allowed out on his own.)

Tim turns his wrist, and Dick lets go at once.

Gives Tim a hopeful look that even Bruce wavers before.

“When is this conference?” Tim finds himself asking.

Dick winces. “Next week.”

Of course it is.

********

Tim gets Kon and Bart to take turns check in on the replacements for his fake plants that he makes Dick pay for, in return for Tim pretending to be his spouse. 

“Uh, Tim. They're fake plants. I think they'll be fine.”

“You don't understand, Kon. Someone's been _murdering_ them.”

“...”

“I'll owe you a favor.”

It's more that Tim has a feeling The Cat With No Name is actually a stray, and there's no knowing how long he'll be gone this time.

Dick and Tim end up at the Manor to talk about the case and what they might face when they go to the gathering, and get absolutely no help from the peanut gallery.

Bruce is straight-faced as he offers such helpful advice as, “Dick has a tendency to snore. You might want to consider ear plugs,” and also, “He's a restless sleeper.”

As if Tim doesn't already know that. (Dick is a cuddler, more so when someone's sick because that just gives him an excuse to cuddle with abandon.)

Jason takes Tim aside, arm over his shoulders and tells Tim not to let Dick pressure him into anything he feels uncomfortable with. 

Also.

“Newlyweds or not, use protection.” And shoves condoms into Tim's hands. 

“Jason!”

Damian's doing a lot of scowling and glaring and muttering to himself, and then - 

“You know,” Jason says, looking between Dick and Damian. “Demon brat here could pass as your kid.”

Which causes all kinds of protests and yelling and flying throw pillows because Dick isn't _that_ old and Damian _cannot believe the nerve of you, Todd_ , and the corner of Bruce's mouth is twitching, ever so slightly.

Jason's cackling turns into swearing when Dick tackles him, Damian joining in when they go past the chair he's sitting in and Tim.

“My condolences, Master Timothy,” Alfred says, watching the three of them roll around on the ground.

“Thanks, Alfred.”

********

The conference is being held at a hotel in a semi-remote area. Very scenic, gorgeous views of the snow-capped mountains and evergreen forests. A lovely little lake a few minutes away and quaint little town at the base of the mountain.

“Not a bad spot for a honeymoon,” Dick says, standing on the balcony of their suite. (The honeymoon suite because _Dick_.)

Tim rolls his eyes, busy checking their equipment.

They're not sure who else staying at the hotel is there for the research data and who's there for legitimate reasons. 

Tim has to cover up the cut on his neck and bruises with make-up and Bat-trick to avoid drawing notice to himself, when they interact with other people at the hotel and surrounding area.

There's a lot of small-talk with other couples, some of whom are a little too interested in their personal lives. Going to dinner at the hotel restaurant in suits and looking very handsome because plot reasons.

Getting to know the other guests, acting like newlyweds. 

“Oh, my ex,” Dick says to one when they’re commiserating over past relationships. “Gorgeous redhead, terrible temper.”

Tim knows he's talking about Barbara, which not the brightest idea when she's listening in? But it's Dick, so.

 _Is that so? We'll just see about that._ Tim hears, and kicks Dick under the table because whatever happens next is Dick's fault because Barbara sounds _amused_.

Also, slow dancing in the ballroom, Dick's hand at Tim's waist, Tim resting his head on Dick's shoulder. (They're undercover, Tim knows they're just acting the part. When this is over they'll go back to how they were before, but.)

It's so nice, and that's the worst part, because _Dick_ , and Tim thought he was over that little crush. (More than a little crush, but Tim and denial are old, old friends by now.)

Dick's _always_ touching him now, too. A hand on his shoulder, in passing. Arm around his waist when they're in public, talking to other people or on a little stroll to get the lay of the land. (Security measures, terrain, all those good things.) Tucking a strand of Tim's hair behind his ear when it gets in his face over breakfast in their room to discuss their next move. (Watching movies on the television on the couch at night when there's noting for them to do, Dick pulling Tim close, fingers in his hair.)

Tim knows he's setting himself up for heartache when this is over, but he can't help it. And Dick. He doesn't even seem to notice what he's doing to Tim.

(The worst part is that Tim knows this isn't new, and it's not going away no matter how hard he tries to make it.)

********

Tim isn't all that surprised when they run into Ra's. (Of course he's not.)

There's a tense moment when Tim knows Ra's knows exactly who they are, it's only a matter of moments until he does something about it, but then - 

But then there's _Jason_ with red hair and melodrama to spare.

(Also, gadgets they need to do things because they know where the research data is being kept, and they want to get their hands on it before the auction in a couple of days. Plot reasons and such.)

“You son of a bitch!” Jason yells, headed right for them ignoring the shocked look on the looks of the people at the tables around them. 

Dick just stares at him.

“I gave you the best years of my life and you run off with _him_!”

“Hey!” Dick says, because Jason's pointing at Tim and Tim just kind of wants to pretend none of this is happening.

Ra's looks _intrigued_.

Jason shoves Tim, passing off a little gadget he at the same time. Dick pulls Tim back behind him and tries to calm Jason down. (No go, because Jason is obviously enjoying this.)

There's more yelling and accusations and the person who suspected they weren't who they said they were looking confused and a little angry and just really confused, and then - 

“Dad, please stop. You're making a scene.”

And that's Damian, isn't it. Dressed like a normal kid and shooting death at Tim and Dick and pretty much everyone with his eyes. (Apparently they're not even trying anymore, because really? They don't think Ra's will recognize Damian?)

“You left your son!” Jason yells, gesturing at Damian who's scowling now. “How could you do that?”

“Oh my God,” Tim mutters to himself, accidentally catching Damian's eye.

Damian raises an eyebrow in agreement. (Tim doesn't know what to do with the fact that this is the kind of thing they bond over.)

Eventually Dick gets Jason calmed down to manageable levels. (Or so he thinks.)

Tim tries to warn Dick because Jason has _that look_ on his face, but too late.

Jason grabs the lapels of Dick's suit jacket and kisses him angrily to Damian's, “My eyes!” and Tim's muttered, “Oh my God,” and Bab's hysterical laughter. 

“I loved you, you bastard,” Jason says, on the verge of losing it completely at the look on Dick's face, and drags Damian out of the hotel restaurant.

“Perhaps I was mistaken,” Ra's says, and there's no way he doesn't know who they are, but. That's amusement in his voice, and Tim hates everything just then. “My apologies.”

Tim grabs Dick and gets them the hell out of there, while everyone else pretends they weren't watching in horrified fascination.

Tim sneaks off to meet up with Damian to grab the files thanks to whatever Jason slipped him. 

Dick gets up to their room to find Jason lounging on the couch in front of the fireplace perusing the room service menu with little bottles of alcohol from the suite's honor bar spread out before him.

“Jason!”

Jason just smiles at him, sweet as anything. (All right, more like smug bastard, but yes.)

“Don't be like that, sweetcakes, we can make our relationship work.” Jason downs one of the bottles, and _grins_. “For our son.”

“Don't call me sweetcakes, you bastard,” Dick mutters, but there's a rueful smile on his face. 

This goes on for a little bit, until Tim and Damian come in, both soaking wet. (Because there were Ra's' ninja and other peoples' minions because apparently supervillains aren't known for playing fair. Also, a pool used in a daring last minute escape.) 

Tim holds up a flash drive. "We got it,” he says, and now Babs laughing like she's dying while Tim and Damian recovered the files makes more sense.

“Do you want us to leave the two of you alone?”

Jason shakes his head. “Nah, he's all yours, baby bird,” and snags the flash drive from Tim on his way out.

Damian scowls at Tim before following him and Dick.

“The authorities are taking over from here,” Tim says.

They managed to identify a lot of key players who were interested in the files for nefarious purposes, and now that the files are in the right hands, their job is over. D

Dick finally seems to notice Tim, and he gets this _look_ on his face.

“You're going to catch pneumonia like that, Tim!” And bundles Tim off to the bathroom for a hot shower and change of clothes.

“Thanks, Alfred,” Tim says, taking the towel Dick's waving at him like a matador. “I can take it from here.”

Dick sputters and Tim shuts the door in his face to shower, this little curl of warmth in his chest that has nothing to do with the hot water.

********

Dick heads back to Gotham first, Tim claiming he has something he needs to to before he can. 

Dick gives him this _look_ , but doesn't argue with him over it. (Tim doesn't know how to feel about that, so he doesn’t.)

He doesn't actually have things to do, but. It's easier this way.

Kon and Bart apologize about the fake plants, and then pretend they know didn't say anything when Tim goes, “What are you talking about?” because he hasn't been to Gotham yet.

“Nothing! Absolutely nothing!” Bart pipes up, giving Tim a too-wide smile. “Everything's fine!”

Kon shrugs when Tim looks at him for an explanation, but all he gets is a shrug.

********

A few days later Tim goes to Gotham and his apartment, not really sure how he feels – sad, guilty, almost, because he knows better.

“Hey, Tim,” Dick greets him when he walks into the living room.

Tim stares.

Dick's on his couch, teasing The Cat With No Name with a bit of string, looking relaxed and happy.

“Dick?”

“Kon and Bart left you a note,” Dick says, pointing to a side table with a several evidence bags filled with dead fake plants, all neatly labeled (Bart) and a note. (Kon.) 

“What are you doing here?” Tim asks.

Dick looks up at Tim, takes in the exhausted slump to his shoulders and the dark circles under his eyes. The way Tim's not quite looking at him, fingers playing with the worn cuffs of the hoodie he's wearing.

“There was a thing,” Dick says, letting The Cat With No Name have the string as he gets up. 

Tim snorts, looks up to meet Dick's eyes. “Really.”

Dick reaches out to tuck a strand of hair behind Tim's ear. “I've missed you,” he says, quiet.

Tim blinks because they just spent a week together on a case - 

“Working on a case doesn't count, Tim,” Dick says.

“I was - 

“- busy, I remember,” Dick finishes for him.

There's an awkward sort of silence then, Tim not sure what he should say, and Dick. Tim doesn't _know_.

Dick pulls Tim into a hug, hand on the back of his neck that Tim doesn't know what to do with.

“Getting married first was probably the wrong way to go about this,” Dick says, “What do you say to dinner?”

There are so many - _so many_ \- reasons why this is a terrible idea. 

Tim has a file on it somewhere, password protected and encrypted to hell and back, with all kinds of charts and graphs and pros and cons. Little sad faces doodled in the margins of various notebooks he later scanned to add to the file. (That part of him that's afraid of having good things because he never gets to keep them.)

“Tim?”

But this is Dick, one of the few good things in his life that's still there, after everything.

“I need to find out who's been killing my fake plants,” Tim says, mind clearly not in working order. “But after that, I think I can pencil you in.”

Dick laughs, holding him tighter and this. 

Maybe it can work, maybe Tim will get to keep this.


End file.
